CHAPTER 33Hubert found himself in a stately room with enormously high ceilings. Through the open windows came the sounds of bells of a nearby church and a sweet smell. He was sitting in a leather armchair, opposite an old man dressed in a black suit. The old man directed his speech at him. He wore a wig and a white beard, and what could be seen of the skin of his face was white as chalk. His half-opened eyes and his slouched position on the Turkish sofa gave him a slightly condescending look; it made him appear as if he considered the business that had brought Hubert into his office a mere trifling matter. When he started to speak in a snarling voice, this impression was at once contradicted by a tone of urgency. Something else was odd: his lips did not move -- he barely opened his mouth.
